


GOT AWAY

by FemailoftheSpecies



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemailoftheSpecies/pseuds/FemailoftheSpecies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lilah Morgan has a close encounter of the scary kind with Spike and gets away.  Or does she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lilah ran.

Thin branches slashing at her face like spindly fingers tearing at her skin with surprising strength. The walls of the maze closed in, shrinking around her, making her feel small and lost.

And she might as well have been on a deserted island for all the good screaming had done.

 _It_ was close, on her heals she thought, but didn’t dare look back to confirm this. She just ran harder, her legs trembling with every long stride now, and imagined that she heard laughter.

Coming upon another intersection, she slowed, indecision gripping her because she thought she had been there already, before dashing to the left and pouring on the speed again. Her breath was ragged and hot, coming in puffs that trailed out behind her. And she was dizzy, the top of her head and the tips of her fingers tingling, needing more air than her exhausted body could provide. But she clung to the skull in her hand determinedly.

Because as bad as the vampire was that was chasing her, there was one thing worse…

The Senior Partners.

She rounded another corner and let out a whimper of disburdened joy when she saw an exit, her eyes fluttering as a sudden breeze made her blink.

And then he was in front of her and she skidded, barely stopping herself from colliding into him.

“Spike,” she panted, bending over at the waist and unable to say more. She retreated a few steps for every one that he took toward her, her hand out to hold him at bay. “I…You…we…can make…a deal.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Pigeon. No deals. I need that Marganian Skull for my Dru’s recovery.”

Lilah nodded, still out of breath, but desperate to keep him talking. A talking mouth wasn’t a biting mouth. “I understand how ...ill she’s been and can’t imagine...how you must feel. I can help you...help you both. I have resources beyond anything –”

“Give. Me. The. Skull,” he interrupted. “I won’t ask again.” His eyes were turning colors, swirling with the fire of the sun, and his teeth became just a little longer and pointier than what was polite.

“They’ll kill me…”

He laughed. “I’ll do it first.” 

He moved, a blur of motion to her, and she was hauled upright by her dark hair with her head wrenched painfully to the side, exposing her neck to him. He lunged, his face changing just in time for demonic teeth the slide into buttery soft flesh.

Bolting upright, Lilah screamed as she clutched damp sheets to her chest. It was a short-lived yelp as she realized where she was – her hotel room. Lifting a shaking hand, she pushed her sweaty hair back from her face and sighed, unmindful of the healing scratches that marred her skin. 

A dream. 

God…she didn’t need this shit.

She reached over, fumbling for the lamp before turning it on. Squinting eyes found the skull on the dresser where she had left it and relief flooded her.

“What is wrong with me?” she whispered annoyed at herself. With the help of a little vial of holy water she’d escaped that unfortunate dilemma and had the prize as well. What was the point of dreaming otherwise?

The darkness by the window shifted and Spike stepped out, unfolding from the shadows like a blossoming flower. Eyes wide, lips pursed. Lilah froze.

He leaned over the bed, resting his knee on the mattress and inhaled. “Well, well. If it isn’t the one that got away.”

 

end


	2. Chapter 2

Her hair feels matted. That’s all she can think of as she wakes and pushes the clumped strands away from her face. 

That, and she’s incredibly thirsty. 

Slipping from between the sheets, Lilah stands on the rough carpet, not sure of the time. It feels like the sun has dropped outside, instead of the day just dawning, but that makes no sense. She hasn’t been asleep that long. 

Rubbing her eyes, she shuffles tiredly to the bathroom and not bothering to turn on the light, she immediately goes for the sink, drinking ice cold water straight from the faucet. It’s good and she likes how it makes her insides wake up so she gulps it down for almost a minute before pulling away and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she stands and frowns at the picture where the bathroom mirror should be. 

“I don’t remember this being here…” she starts, talking to herself, and then trails off as snippets of memory flash in front of her eyes, jolting like electrical shocks in their severity. 

_Spike._

That damned vampire has been here. She darts from the bathroom and disappointment clutches at her heart. 

The god damned skull is gone. 

“Fuck!” she hisses. Her cell phone is still on the nightstand and Lilah snatches it up, dialing quickly at first, but slowing as her mind comes to a grinding, screeching halt. She shakes her head with a nervous laugh, as if it can’t be true, and then she flipflops into eager understanding and presses END while rushing to the dresser and the mirror hanging over it. 

In the mirror is the reflection of the room, the messy bed with its torn and blood smeared sheets, that she hadn’t even noticed before, but now that she has she thinks she can actually smell the sweet scent of death. And her bed clothes strewn everywhere. All of that is there; there's only one crucial thing missing in the reflection – Lilah herself. 

“No fucking way,” she whispers, not entirely upset, but shocked nonetheless. She feels her neck and it’s relatively unchanged except for a slightly raised area which must be where he bit her. Further inventory of her condition reveals dried blood all over, especially in her hair, and she’s fairly certain she's a frightful mess. 

But she’s also fairly certain she doesn’t actually care beyond how it affects her getting fed because by now, she’s getting pretty hungry. 

From the way she feels inside, tap water just won’t do. 

She smiles at the image not there and strides to the bathroom for a shower, feeling pretty good about how things have worked out and wondering just how this affects her standard perpetuity clause.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting more tomorrow.

The Firm was less than pleased. 

Lilah hadn’t quite known what to expect when she entered the lobby of Wolfram & Hart, but the company's black ops team surrounding her with crossbows at the ready really wasn’t high on the list. 

In retrospect, they were right to be cautious. Looking at them, smelling the sweat and fear on hot, smooth skin, she was certain that not a few employees would have been missing chunks of neck if she had been left to her own devices. Desires. 

She was also a little angry that Holland Manners was more interested in the ancient relic she had been sent to retrieve than her current condition. Apparently, junior partners being turned was not as rare an occurrence as she thought. Instead, she was now considered too unpredictable to be a valued employee and her former boss had walked her out – with armed sentinels of course – handing her the paperwork for her severance package as he wished her a fruitful unlife. 

She drained a girl from the steno pool as she walked to her car and felt a little better. 

So, she had packed a bag of her favorite things and taken the Amtrak out of Los Angeles. The note William the Bloody left for her in place of that fateful skull gave a New Orleans address with a slyly written invitation to join him there if she chose. 

She chose. 

 

~~~*~~~ 

 

The train, called the Sunset Limited, which she found pretty funny now, pulled into the Union Passenger Terminal and the metal on metal screech as it slowed to a stop had her grinding her teeth. She was still adjusting and had not yet learned to tone down her senses. 

Disembarking went swiftly; she had just the one rolling suitcase and her oversized Dolce & Gabbana purse as she strolled out onto Loyola Avenue, heels clicking. People walked by, busy with living, and the scents of magnolia petals underfoot and sewers went far to mask the blood thrumming in veins close enough to hear. A hunt right now was appealing. She had last fed at the station bathroom in El Paso the night before and her stomach growled noisily. Even so, she marched to the curb and hailed a taxi. It was close to midnight and she didn’t know her way around. She wanted to be laired up before sunrise, one way or another. 

She gave the address to the driver and settled back in the ugly vinyl seat, watching as the city zoomed by, old Shotgun and Victorian style homes on Loyola Street slowly giving way to businesses and shops. 

Knowing he had a non-local, the cabbie took the scenic route. They made a right onto Canal Street and passed the Vieux Carre on the left before hooking around the floating Harrah’s Casino and the Convention Center to cross a narrow bridge.

She leaned forward. 

“Are you going the right way?” she asked. 

He turned, smiling as he nodded. “This here’s the Crescent City Connection into Algiers, ma’am,” he told her, his Cajun origins clear, and then drove on for a few more minutes. He pulled over in front of a boarded up home. Spray-painted vulgarities adorned the front door and the little shack of a garage. 

“Oh, this is just wrong,” she whispered as she craned her neck out of the window to read the street sign. 

_Opelousas._

It was the right street at least. With a sigh, she got out, dragging her bags behind her. The cabbie came around too late to help and stood there, waiting for his fare. 

The front door squeaked open, and there stood Spike, blond hair gleaming brightly in the moonlight, a cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers as he leaned against the iron railing. “Lilah,” he greeted neutrally, his eyes shadowed and unreadable. 

She started up the narrow walk. “Pay the man,” she ordered while passing, stopping when he snatched her by the neck, slender fingers caressing as they bruised. She remained still, a kitten to this tiger, and waited. 

He drew her close, his mouth inches from hers as he gathered in her scent and drawled, “I guess you didn’t get away after all.”


	4. Chapter 4

The front room is rather small, maybe ten by twelve feet and Lilah can see straight through to the back of the house despite the overwhelming dimness. It would be stuffy and too warm if those things still mattered. One lone candle rests on a mantle cluttered with dolls and an oddly pretty woman…slender, dark-haired, fey, Drusilla …is curled up, sleeping on a mattress that takes up a good deal of the floor.

Next to the bed is the skull she died to protect. It is blackened now, all used up in some ritual she supposes, to cure the ailing vampire.

“Did it work?” she inquires and Spike just shrugs.

“Won’t know until she wakes up.”

Scowling at the empty eye sockets, Lilah attempts to conjure up an emotion over her own dying, perhaps some righteous anger, but she finds herself lacking in that department, severely.

Leaning in the doorway, Spike studies her, his eyes like burnt coals dragging over her skin, an icy-hot mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“What?” she asks and drops herself tiredly into a chair. Her D&G bag slumps from her shoulder to the dusty floor, kicking up a cloud that might have been a cousin at once time.

“Took you a while to get here,” he comments, his expression blanking out.

She takes off a shoe and rubs her foot, more from habit than actual discomfort. “I almost didn’t come, but…” she sighs, “It seems that my new brand of iniquity is too…unsavory for an evil, inter-dimensional law firm,” she replied, resentfulness creeping in, most comforting and welcome to her emotionally deadened condition.

Spike waves her bitterness away. “Better off without that lot,” he tells her in all seriousness. “But once Dru’s better, we can go kill them all if you like.”

Her lips curl up slightly and she meets the blond’s merry gaze. “My mom always thought I should’ve been a surgeon. Can there be scalpels?”

“Dru gets to play anesthesiologist,” he adds.

“Of course.” And Lilah’s grinning hugely for the first time in days because she’s beginning to find the fun in all this. Spike nods.

“It’s a bloody date then.” 

He pushes off the wall and stoops in front of where she sits, his blue eyes bright and clear and no less terrifying in their humanness. “Now… you and I? We need to get a few things straight before my Princess comes around.” 

Lilah swallows hard and she’s compelled to run, but she wants something else as well, indescribably complex, yet utterly simple.

Sire.

He stands and extends his hand to her, his silver skull ring glinting in the weak candlelight. Chivalry is not dead. His smile reaches his eyes. “There’s a good girl. Come to Daddy.”


	5. Chapter 5

The floor creaks as they walk toward the back of the house, Spike tugging Lilah along by the hand until they reach the kitchen. Another candle sits on the center of an old white stove, casting cold dim light around the room. Two male vampires are lounging at a small Formica table, playing poker, and they straighten up as soon as Spike appears. The one dealing the cards has a café latte complexion with deep-set hazel eyes. His dark hair is thick and curly and Lilah likes. She looks the other one over and thinks they might be twins, they resemble each other so much. Their eyes take on hints of gold when they see her, but otherwise she can’t tell what they’re thinking and she’s a little peeved that she didn’t know they were in the house at all. 

For some reason, she expects that this gig comes with the ability to detect her own kind when nearby. She didn’t know much about vampires before and really still doesn’t now, but she is certain that unless you are family, then you are more likely to end up on the business end of a stake as not. 

Spike watches the exchange with a vague interest stirring in him. “This is the larder.” He opens a broom closet to reveal two girls, youngish, fair and pretty, tied up and tossed in like rag dolls. Both unconscious but the brunette moves slightly, eyes opening, half-hooded and dopey, as she shifts in her sleep. The strings of purple and green beads around her neck clang conspicuously in the quiet. “You’ll eat from here unless I take you out.”

Lilah frowns at them and the odd scent seeping from living pours. “They’re drugged.”

“A little…helps keep the screaming down. Won’t bother you much, except for a teensy buzz after a while.” 

That he wants to keep the screaming down comes as a surprise to Lilah; it is certainly contrary to what she is beginning to understand as their nature, but he doesn’t bother to elaborate and she won’t be let herself be vulnerable and ask.

“Well, that’s a very sweet thought, but I can get my own food,” she announces instead and crosses her arms, staring him down.

Spike stares right back, but addresses the other vampires. “Go across the river and lair for the day. Eat in the Vieux Carre and then bring dinner for my girls when you return.” 

Groaning, they stood. The dealer glares at Lilah in passing, not hiding his displeasure at being sent away for the day, especially when sunrise was right around the horizon, but he keeps his mouth shut. Lilah’s place in the pecking order has been established in this demand – _Not A Minion_ might as well be stamped on her forehead.

They leave through a back door and Spike locks it behind them before turning to consider his options.

Always a fan of defiance in the face of his own sire’s whims, if said sire in question was Angelus, Spike feels a sort of solidarity with Lilah and the no-nonsense spirit she exudes. He likes that in a girl, but it will not stop him from beating the recalcitrance out of her this morning. 

Drusilla will awaken soon and he will not have anything ruining what he hopes will be her first day back to good health. Pragmatic, he’s aware that the ritual may not have been a success, but he is also an eternal optimist.

“Strip for me.”

Lilah stops and looks at him, eyes wide and incredulous. She has been walking the parameter of the room, examining things that obviously do not belong to the vampires in residence when his command penetrates her musings. “Excuse me?”

“Need to see what you look like.”

Her eyes go narrow now. “I’m pretty sure you saw all you are ever going to see that night.”

Spike laughs. “Now don’t be sore about that. It was just business. You had what I needed. Besides, you were covered in blood. Pretty as that was, it also distorted my view. Now take off your clothes,” he orders again and his voice has dropped, going all deep and dark like chocolate. “I’m not a patient man, Lilah.”

She snorts at that. “You’re not a man at – ”

His fist slamming her in the mouth is as shocking as it is painful. And her old belief that a man would never hit a woman flies out the window, ironic that.

“Fuck! What’s your fucking problem!?” she’s screaming and swings at him, clumsy and wild. He sidesteps the blow and her hand goes into the wall. Old plaster gives way easily to her new strength, but when she tries to pull it away, she finds that she’s stuck. When she tugs, the plaster and wood digs into her skin, making her bleed, and Spike stops her with a firm hand to her wrist before she does more damage. Frowning at the pain, she doesn’t move a muscle.

“Look at you,” Spike coos from behind. “All tensed up like you don’t want this, like you don’t know what you’re made for.” Truth is, Spike isn’t sure why he didn’t just kill her that night. 

She’d caused him a good deal of discomfort with that Holy Water and by all rights was due a painful death in return. But he’d made the decision on the fly, a whim, just like most of his existence-changing decisions, and it was done.

Now, all that is left for him to do is take what is his. 

His free hand snakes around her hip to un-tuck her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and then slips under the fabric to caress the soft, downy skin of her belly. He presses against her now, his erection evident through each layer of clothes between them, and she leans back, her head falling to his shoulder. Her breast is firm and heavy as he cups one in the palm of his hand, enjoying the fullness. He caresses over the lacy fabric and her nipple tightens. Smiling into her neck, he changes and bites down, sliding into willing flesh. She hisses and pushes up like she wants more but he only takes a small taste and removes his fangs as his hand falls to pull her skirt so that it is bunched up around her waist. 

The stockings and silk thong instead of pantyhose are a welcome surprise, reminding Spike of a gentler time, when women were delicate and fresh and weak, and waiting to be defiled by his wretched intent. He tears her panties away and skates his hand over the smooth curve of her bottom while easing the plaster away from her trapped hand, releasing her.

“My boy’s been very creative.”

Spike whirls around, blue eyes wide and pleased as he drinks in the sight of Drusilla. Lilah hides the anger she feels about the disruption and tries a diplomatic smile.

“I’m Lilah.” She steps toward the oldest vampire and offers her hand, attorney etiquette kicking in, only slightly uneasy about the blood dripping from the small tears in her skin. 

“Lilah Morgan took an ax. Gave her father forty whacks,” Dru sings softly before closing the distance swiftly, taking the proffered fingers in her own and bringing them to her mouth. Before Lilah can do anything, fangs are inside her wrist, grinding against bone and cartilage. She screams.

Spike is quick to separate them, laughing while his new get flings curses around the room. He checks Lilah’s wounds, determines them to be superficial. 

“How do you feel, poodle?” he asks Drusilla and holds her at arms length to get a better look. 

Her skin is pale, perfect and not at all as ashen as it had been two nights ago. She kisses his cheek and pulls away to peer out of the window at the coming dawn. “I feel amazing, Spike. All brand new inside.”

Lilah sinks into a chair and continues to staunch her own bleeding.


	6. Chapter 6

At Wolfram and Hart, the induction into evil had been smooth and seamless for Lilah. For the first months, her caseloads were basically normal, if a little unethical. Gradually, she took on more morally challenged jobs and it became easier and easier to cross that line where her principles were concerned. By the time she died, she was well acquainted with evil in various forms. She knew what to expect, pretty much.

One day with Spike and Drusilla has blown all that away.

She stands in the mirror, pretending to check out her reflection. A quick study, Lilah has already discovered how painful things can get when she doesn’t play along and how good it can be when she does. Drusilla takes her by the hand and twirls her around twice, the billowy fabric of the skirt flowing nicely. 

“What do you think, Spike?” Dru asks over the new vampire’s shoulder as she slips her slender arms around Lilah’s waist to fasten a silver belt.

Blue eyes tear away from the sports section of the newspaper long enough to give them both a cursory glance. “Pretty as a picture, pet.” He’s back to reading before Drusilla can nod her head wisely, like she knows more than she’ll tell. Which is probably true, but for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m a designer,” she says while dancing away from their newest toy.

Spike shakes his head and puts down the paper. “No,” he states slowly. “You _ate_ a designer.”

A shrug and she’s pulling another dress from her trunk. “It’s nearly the same thing, Spike. Don’t rain on my parade. The procession’s only started.”

Lilah feels like a doll, like one of those porcelain eyeless numbers on the mantel in the front room. She shudders slightly, grateful that Drusilla hasn’t thought of that…yet.

“What shall we try next?”

“I have clothes of my own, you know,” Lilah states flatly, crossing her arms. Tired and sleepy, she thinks vampires are supposed to sleep all day and she is missing out on her eight hours.

Drusilla stares at her, trying to catch Lilah’s gaze long enough to snare her. “Whorish and crude things, made to get the boys hard. Spilling seeds and secrets into sin.” She walks over and touches the blond on his shoulder. “Do you want her, my Spike? With her dirty-girl smiles and hungry cunt, snapping and snapping and snapping and snapping…” Drusilla claps loudly, the sound like gunshots, and Spike knows she’s very strong again. Maybe back in perfect form which is as elating as it is frightening.

She’s waiting for an answer, one he won’t supply, and he’s never appreciated minions as much as when the two he’d sent to the French Quarter just before dawn come stampeding noisily through the back door. 

Andre tosses his burden onto the cracked linoleum floor and grins, a kitten presenting his quarry to the cat.

Distracted properly, Drusilla stoops down to peer at the human intently. “Dinner’s served.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Madame Thibodeaux keeps late hours and is very aware of what goes bump in the night, which is why she lives at her place of business and there is no “welcome” mat on her porch.

Drusilla stands just outside of the threshold with Lilah behind her, while Spike talks to the voodoo priestess. The woman is adamant about not allowing them in, and his sire is just as adamant about obtaining certain ingredients for some casting she is planning. 

“You gimme yo list and I’ll gadder up everything, butcha aint getting’ in here. Da undead’s always up ta no good.”

Spike rolls his eyes, takes a long drag of his cigarette, and leans on the barrier. “Whatever…Dru.”

She is staring up at the sky now and he barks, “Dru!” bringing her back quickly. 

“Are we inside yet?” she asks, blinking slowly.

“Noooo. The old biddy won’t give,” he mumbles, but Madame Thibodeaux hears anyway. He doesn’t care. “Do you have a list of what you need?”

A slender hand disappears inside the folds of her skirt and comes out holding a folded slip of paper. She passes it to Spike who opens it up and begins to read what must be Lilah’s writing because it’s to no-nonsense to belong to his Princess. 

“…ostrich egg… and um, what’s that?” he asks innocently and turns the paper around for the old woman to see, keeping it just shy of the threshold. When she reaches for it, he grabs her quickly, catching her by the thumb and pulling hard so that she stumbles out on the porch with them. Lilah is there in a flash, her grip on the woman’s wrist crushing as she sinks her fangs in to a soft, wrinkled arm.

Madame Thibodeaux screams and Lilah thinks she could really get to like this.

 

~~~*~~~


	7. Chapter 7

The voodoo priestess is - or was - a popular woman so when the news of her mysterious death gets out, the locals naturally look to the newcomers in town.

Getting out of Algiers in a hurry before the sun rises proves to be a challenge, but Spike pulls it off, keeping his small clan safe to murder another night. Actually, they murder that night, but he’s not splitting hairs.

Two nights into the drive west, Spike has been pulled over for speeding twice and kills the patrolmen both times without blinking an eye. While Lilah can appreciate the sentiment, she is afraid that this sort of behavior will prove dangerous to their existence and isn’t ready to try her fangs against the Texas State Police just yet.

Well before dawn, they pull into a motel off Highway 10 and get two rooms. As soon as they arrive Drusilla changes into a modern halter and a pair of shorts that barely cover her bottom. The look reminds Spike of their summer as flower children in The Haight. 

“Where’re you off to, poodle?” he asks from where he’s sprawled on one of the double beds. Next door, he hears Andre and Pierre settling in.

Dru gives him that secret grin, like she’s not going to tell him a thing, but then she climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. Rocking slowly, he groans as she answers, “What would you like for dinner, my sweet. I’ll be your server this evening. You too, wicked,” she includes Lilah dismissively, without a glance her way.

Lilah’s not sure if Drusilla means to fetch her dinner, or to have her serve Spike. The latter is much more appealing than she likes. Except she _does_ like it, the urge to serve him making her throb between her legs, the need to be there for him to do…whatever he wants to her is strong and it _bothers_ her so much.

She shivers, shaking off the feeling, and waits while those two dance around each other. Spike pretends to protest his sire going without him, a sure way to make certain that she does. Crazy or not Drusilla is as headstrong as a vamp can be. Unless it’s Angelus she’s up against, and even then Himself has been known to back down in the face of her will. Predictably, insisting she can bring back enough for a feast she struts out in black sandals, her blood red toenails starkly contrasting against her pale skin. They hear her snatch Andre up to come along and then soon nothing but the sound of automobiles passing on the highway.

Spike is up and pressed flush against Lilah before she can see him. 

“Don’t wanna share you this time,” he tells her, not quite kissing the smooth skin at the base of her neck because she scoots away quickly.

“We need to ditch the car.”

Confused because there is only air where flesh should be, it takes a few extra seconds for her statement to sink in, but when it does, Spike is properly outraged.

“Ditch my DeSoto? Been taking the piss, have you?”

With no clue about what taking the piss could possibly mean in vampire talk, she ignores that and moves to her point. “You _killed_ two cops. Not mad about it…” And there’s that grin again that makes him want to fuck it right off her face. “But, it’s on the news. They have a description of the car and will catch up to us sooner or later.” 

Spike says nothing to this, just stares at her like she’s a new type of bug and she sighs now, hands on her hips. “Did I get turned for nothing? Do you wanna risk Dru in a shoot out with the police? Right after getting her back on her feet again?”

Up until she mentions his sire, Spike’s face is all defiance and obstinacy that melts quickly into concern as he glances to the door Drusilla drifted through just a moment ago. He nods for Lilah to go on.

Relieved, and hopeful now that he is taking her seriously, she slips into negotiator mode and goes to her purse. “Now, instead of your trusty old clunker of a car, I can get us something better.” She flashes her American Express card. 

“Not one of those weird foreign numbers,” Spike insists with a disgusted frown, which she finds funny since he is pretty much a weird foreign number himself. 

“No,” she gives the sort of smile that has Spike thinking of little girls with dimpled cheeks and dirty knees. “Something American and big and sure to guzzle all the gas you can steal.”

Pleased, he pulls her close and kisses her, deep and slow. Her surprise is quickly overrun by desire and she responds eagerly, tugging at his shirt to get at the smooth skin under the fabric, and this pleases him as well. 

In fact, overall, he is enormously delighted with this whole sire thing. As Lilah, pulls him to the bed, her eyes dark and smoldering, he can only laugh his pleasure at the benefits of having something of his very own.


	8. Chapter 8

Born in 1853, William had been the most forward-thinking in the House of Angelus (actually-Darla-but-we-let-him-have-his-illusions). He is a mutable sort of demon, even if he protests that notion fiercely, and has been able to adapt to this new world more easily than most vampires his age. 

The idea of hanging onto those ancient ways and fashions disturbs Spike. Part of it due to his dislike of anything traditional, but even more because he doesn’t particularly appreciate the qualities of the man he had been when alive and wants few reminders. Sounding like William had been the first thing to go back then when he adopted his Cheapside accent and mannerisms. All that has settled over the decades into a seamless mesh between all his personalities which Spike finds comfortable, a skin he wears like that black leather coat.

Even so, he’s never tried to really get a foothold into the newest technology and use it to benefit his wicked ways. Having Lilah Morgan in his corner, all that is about to change.

Not a young girl, Lilah is cresting her womanly status. In that place in time where everything is as firm and full as it’s going to be before the decline starts, Spike fancies that he turned this one at her best.

He swirls his tongue around a pert nipple, feeling it pucker before he bites down. Panting, she arches into it, her hands clenched in the damp, tattered sheets. The room smells of sex and blood, good smells that make his demon hum quietly beneath.

“How old are you? Were you rather?” He’s looking up at her, something playful in his eyes. Like he knows that’s the worst question you can ask a woman, but he doesn’t care.

With a sigh, she rolls over, pulling the covers so that they wrap her up like a burrito. He pretends to pout and tugs at the linens. “What? Can’t discuss your age? Not like you’ll get older…ever.” 

“Yeah, but you can’t just ask a girl. It’s rude,” she advises him, ignoring the raised brow. “Besides, I’m always gonna lie and say I’m older than I am so that people can tell me how great I look for my age.” There’s that grin again and Spike feels his dick starting to grin back.

“Good plan. Buys you time with humans too.”

She ponders that for a few seconds, frowning slightly before finally asking, “Okay, I’ll bite…literally as soon as we get the hell outta this dump…but why do I care about buying time with humans? I’m pretty much just planning on getting my munch on.”

“Well…” Spike glances around, spots his cigarettes on the dresser and goes to fetch one. He’s a reasonably smart demon and knows when sex time is over…for the moment. The fledgling has switched to lessons mode. “People are useful. In my youth, we needed them for running errands during the day and such. Most shops closed up before sundown. Now though, in the age of technology, it’s different. Can’t just force your way into a home, kill the residents and stay for months. People will know, so you need connections in the right place to help with the documentation.” He lights his smoke and inhales deeply, savoring the burn in his lungs before staring at her, his blue gaze weighted like stone.

After half a minute she shifts to sit up on the bed. “What?”

He blinks, shaking his head. “Nothing. It’s just – I can’t believe that I finally got lucky.”

“Oh. Well…” She lets the sheet fall from around her. “I am quite the catch, I know. You just had to hold me down and kill me,” she says laughingly, eyes sparkling and bright when he crushes the cigarette out on the dresser and moves toward her.

One knee on the bed, he grabs a handful of her silky hair as their lips meet. He tells himself that he’s going to make her grow it out down her back and imagines her tied with her own tresses and smiles. 

Clawing at his back to draw him closer, she feels the grin and is just a little frustrated that he’s not fucking her already. He pulls away, stands up to his full height – which is only about an inch over Lilah in bare feet – and seems pleased with himself.

“Why are you not here?” she asks and pats the mattress invitingly in case he’s as dumb as a sack of rocks. Which he ain’t.

“They’re close,” he says flatly and tosses a very lacey bra at her. “Get your stuff and get in the shower.”

“Why? Drusilla's got your balls too?”

He does a bit of qigong breathing like his sire taught him when she was sick and they had tried nearly everything, even feng shui, because he doesn’t want to choke Lilah out…again. Apparently, it isn’t very effective in curbing that tongue of hers.

“Unless you _like_ play time with my princess, I suggest you make yourself scarce and let me handle her.” He crosses his arms and waits. One more sacastic word and he’ll toss her to Dru and take off to hunt alone.

A beat passes, long enough for her to remember the other day and Lilah’s picking her up clothes and back to frowning, a real scowl that puts tiny lines around her eyes. Spike doesn’t know if he likes those. 

“Come on. How old are you anyway? Really?”


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t like it, Spike.”

Drusilla’s nose is turned up as she somehow manages to look down on an SUV that sits a foot taller than her.

Spike runs his hands along the door and over the hood. “Come on, Poodle. It’s big, black and sleek. What’s not to like?” he asks, but is already tuning her out because _he_ really does like it and has no intention of letting her have her way about this.

“I want our pretty monster, not this…machine,” she hisses. 

He walks over to Lilah and speaks low. “Make it happen.”

“What about…” she flicks a wary gaze at the other vampire then back to Spike’s serious face.

“Don’t worry. Just bloody well get it done. And meet me here at ten.” He hands her a slip of paper and stomps off toward the Desoto, snatching Drusilla by her arm along the way.

~~~*~~~

Twenty inch alloy rims gleam in the moolight as Lilah pulls the Land Cruiser into an unlit parking lot. She steps out and peers around, letting her vampiric vision work for her as she searches for the right address.

A door, two down from the one closest to her, swings open, the gap glowing golden from the light inside, and she can make out Spike’s silhouette. Also, there’s that nagging pull that she is beginning to associate with her sire. She hates it and she loves it and is so confused by these conflicting emotions that she just wants to shut them off. But she can’t or hasn’t found a way to yet and Spike is motioning for her to come inside so she marches toward the light, clicking the button on the key fob to lock the doors and set the alarm.

A thief will steal her new baby in the blink of an eye if she’s not careful. And Lilah’s a very careful girl. Or she used to be.

He steps back to let her inside, sniffing deeply as she passes. She ignores that and turns to face him just inside, a second set of keys extended in her hand.

“What is this place?”

He snatches them from the air as she drops them. “Gonna store my car here. Leave it for a decade or so then have it shipped to wherever I am.”

She makes a noise like she approves and walks away from him, checking out the people in the room. “So I guess we can’t eat these.” She points at the guys behind the counter.

Spike chuckles and shakes his head. “You could, but I promise they’ll bite back.”

Shocked, she turns and gapes at him. “Vamps? What kinda demon did you give me?”

A shrug is her only answer as he drops the conversation in favor of one of the vampires waving him over. There are documents to sign and payments to make. Nothing can happen to his baby. He’d assured Drusilla that the DeSoto would be shipped to them soon. He just never promised how soon and ten years isn’t all that long to either of them so he really hadn’t lied. Not really.

Once the arrangements are complete, he hands over a set of keys, keeping a set for himself, and leads Lilah outside where he immediately starts admiring his new ride.

“Hello, luv.” He runs his hand along the side. “You and I are going to make beautiful mayhem together.”

Lilah rolls her eyes and glances up as a fat drop of water hits the top of her head. “Crap,” she whispers.

Glancing up as well, Spike sees the black sky and frowns. His princess isn’t fond of starless nights. Thinking of which…

“Dru…Pet,” he calls. “Where are you?”

~~~*~~~

He follows her scent for a while, perhaps a mile before it just ends. The sky is dark and starless, overcast, not a favorite for his princess which has him worried. Drusilla usually sticks close to him on this sort of night. 

When he returns to the car, his new vampire is sitting in the driver’s seat on the phone. He motions for Lilah to move. Eyes rolling, she does, scooting awkwardly over the center console while tucking the cell between her ear and shoulder. She never stops her conversation though and Spike wonders who’s on the other end.

With his skills eavesdropping comes easily, but it is of no help. He still has no clue about the identity of the other person. Just that it is male. And angry. But he doesn’t have it in him to worry about Lilah’s potential affairs. Drusilla has skipped out on him. Time will only tell for how long. Could be a day or months.

She pushes END and looks at him. “So…what now?”

Spike shrugs and grips the steering wheel. “We go back to the motel and wait.” He starts the engine and shifts the car into drive, but Lilah has other ideas and grabs him by the arm.

“Not before we get someone to eat. I’m hungry and don’t plan to be stuck all day waiting for that loony bi–”

He has her by the neck before she can blink and is slamming her head against the window. Not hard enough to break it, but to make a point.

“I thought we had this discussion before.” With a final shove he lets her go. She glares at him while rubbing where bruises are quick to form.

“Not my fault your chick’s an inconsiderate nutcase!” she yells and tries to block the punch he sends her way. Failing at that, pain shoots through her jaw and her head’s ringing. She wonders if she has a concussion. Again. “Sorry,” she mutters.

“No, you’re not,” Spike growls and then pulls out of the parking lot and turns left, angry because this is not the type of siring he wants to do. “But you will be.”


	10. Chapter 10

Lilah spends four days healing. In all that time, there is no sign of Drusilla. 

Spike keeps eyeing her like it’s her fault and it takes every ounce of submissiveness she can muster to refrain from making her usual smart-ass comments. Normally, nothing can deter her from speaking her mind, but she has quite a liking for her skin, very attached to it even, and quiet as it is kept, William the Bloody hasn’t lost his touch.

As she paces the room for the umpteenth time, she takes the opportunity to study him unnoticed. Outwardly, he seems the same, an arrogant indifference and she is beginning to see it for what it is: a mask. This time he’s hiding worry, a concern so deep it has the evil inside him burning for destruction while he sits impassively watching some odd soap opera. 

And fury. He is the living, or not, embodiment of contained rage. And _that_ is why Lilah keeps her mouth shut.

But she still thinks that it’s time to move on. Drusilla’s a big girl. Lilah’s a bored one.

Bored doesn’t mean stupid though and she’s working out how to carefully approach the delicate subject of leaving when there’s a knock on the door.

Spike glances at her. She glances at him. He lifts an eyebrow. Lilah sighs and stomps to the door.

“Who’s there?” she asks.

On the other side is a muffled response, but she can hear it just fine.

“Is the a…um, this is gonna sound stupid…” he trails off and Lilah snatches the door open impatiently. “Oh, hey.” The guy shifts modes easily upon seeing a pretty woman. “I… Look, this chick asked me to come here and give a message to her...Black Knight. But you aint black or a guy so…” he starts to turn away and is halted by Lilah’s hand on his arm. 

“Wait. Was she dark haired, thin kinda…” By now Spike, who’s heard everything, is up and right behind Lilah.

“Crazy?” the man finishes. “Yeah. But she paid me $100 bucks and I had to come this way anyway so.” He flashes five twenties from a Monopoly game and Lilah smiles over her shoulder at the other vampire.

Spike steps around her. “What’s the message?”

“Okay, I’m just gonna repeat this verbatim.” He takes a deep breath like he auditioning for some part and Spike has got to wonder what game Dru had been playing when she thralled him. “The earth has teeth. Mean and wicked, like me…or _her_ I guess. Oh yeah…Daddy’s playing with the devil.” 

The messenger has stopped, gazing from Lilah to Spike expectantly. He would like an interpretation on the apparent gibberish he just passed, but the recipients don’t look much like sharing. “I should get going,” he says and turns to walk away. Lilah’s hand stops him again as she grins at Spike.

“Hungry?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Halloween Nekid Numbers Challenge - Lucky me, I got wildcard/skull/maze. It was meant to be a one off standalone but turned into this.


End file.
